


Hem your blessings (so they don't unravel)

by pr_scatterbrain



Category: Bandom, Empires, Panic At The Disco, The Like
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hipsters, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/pseuds/pr_scatterbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassie can't blanket stitch, Z is rereading Kerouac, Ryan is a failure of a poet (according to <i>The New Yorker</i>) and Spencer is Spencer. The only wrinkle in the tuxedo shirt that is Ryan's life is Brendon. Or the fact Spencer has fallen for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hem your blessings (so they don't unravel)

**Author's Note:**

> A quick and somewhat lazy attempt at a [prompt](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/17643.html?thread=43755#t43755) at [](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/profile)[**girlmarauders**](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/)' [Bandom Secret Married Fest](http://girlmarauders.livejournal.com/17643.html#comments).

 

 

Spencer and Ryan get married shortly after Spencer gets picked up to fill in for some flake of a drummer in some random band that Spencer probably told Ryan the name of but Ryan doesn’t remember, and Ryan’s latest career choice (post modern poet) fails to pan out in the manner he initially expected. The chain of events leading to the decision had been rather short. Mostly it consists of a handful of rejection letters, an eviction notice and Ryan accidentally stabbing himself with a steak knife while having dinner with Cassie and Tom.

“How can I leave you like this?” Spencer asks when he takes Ryan to the emergency room.

“It’s okay,” Ryan tries to tell him.

“Cassie was going to stitch you up with an old sewing needle and cotton thread.”

“She disinfected it,” Ryan says, and Cassie had.

Spencer sighs and then he swears when a nurse comes over to talk them through their options. This is news to Ryan as he didn’t know he had any. As it turns out, Ryan’s doubt is well placed for he doesn’t actually have any. Or he has two, one being walk out of the emergency department and hope Cassie can blanket stitch or two, hand over a credit card and hope for the best.

“He filleted his palm. You can see the muscles in his hand. What do you mean that’s the best you can do?” Spencer says when the nurse finishes.

“Your friend isn’t insured. We aren’t a free clinic. If you want I can give you the closest location.”

Spencer bristles and pulls out his wallet. “Fuck that.”

“Spence–”

“No,” Spencer says. “You are not letting some moonlighting intern who hasn’t slept in days sow your hand back together.”

Ryan opens his mouth to argue, but before he can, Spencer gives him a look. “I said no.”

 

 

In total, it costs over two grand for eight stitches, two rounds of antibiotics, one round of pain killers and a tetanus shot. This does not include the twenty dollar cab fare Spencer spends to take Ryan back to his place to get a change of clothes, only to find out that Ryan doesn’t actually live there anymore.

“It’s just a small hiccup,” Ryan tells him on the cab ride back to Spencer’s place.

“You could have told me.”

“I thought I did?”

“No,” Spencer says. “You didn’t. I would have remembered.”

“Oh,” Ryan breaths. “My mistake.”

The thing is Ryan has been making a lot of them lately. “Doesn’t Ginger always say bad luck comes in threes? Well, that’s two. Or three if you count my book deal falling through last August.”

Spencer laughs. At least Ryan thinks he does. He can feel Spencer’s chest shake against his cheek, but when he looks up, Spencer isn’t smiling.

“What I am going to do with you?” Spencer mutters.

Ryan doesn’t know. He’s never really known.

When they get back to Spencer’s place, Ryan lets Spencer bundle him up in blankets and tuck him into the guest bedroom. Spencer’s place is tiny but it’s warm and clean and when Ryan wakes up Spencer has made him tea just the way Ryan likes. Also, it’s in his favourite mug and the pills he needs to take are lined up waiting for him.

“We have to talk,” Spencer says quietly when Ryan has swallowed the last pill.

Ryan knows how this goes. Except apparently he doesn’t because instead of being told to be more careful, Spencer asks Ryan to marry him.

“I’m not a band member, but technically I’m now an employee of Sony Records,” he explains. “And if we’re married my insurance will extend to cover you.”

Ryan asks Spencer to repeat that last bit.

Spencer punches his (good) arm. “You heard me. So what do you say?”

There is only one thing to say.

 

 

They get married just before Spencer leaves.

Ryan writes a poem to commemorate the event.

 

 

( _The New Yorker_ rejects _Midday Sonata to the Polyester Day Suit;_  too sentimental, lacking true emotional depth).

 

 

Not much changes. A few things do. Ryan is still able to buy himself dinner after his next doctor’s appointment and the cost of rehabbing his hand doesn’t completely bankrupt him. It’s kind of nice. And then when it comes time to do their taxes, Spencer takes great pleasure in reaping monetary rewards of their legally binding partnership. For the most part though, things stay more or less the same, if a little better. Ryan formally moves into Spencer’s apartment. All the bills are sent to Spencer so they get paid. Therefore Ryan is able to write without needing the assistance of candlelight or be forced to take brisk bi-weekly cold water showers.

All in all, Ryan decides he likes married life.

It’s pleasant and comfortable and he finds himself settling into it like an over grown house cat rescued from the pound. Even their friends notice the difference.

“There is a spring in your step,” Jon comments.

Ryan nods, as there most certainly is. “I slept a full ten hours last night and woke to discover Spencer has decided to get our groceries home delivered.”

“You’re living the dream, young man,” Jon says.

Ryan most defiantly is.

It’s nice too when the tour Spencer’s now on swings through Chicago for two days. Ryan helps Spencer sort his laundry in the basement of their building and listens to his road stories and makes him looks at Ryan’s teeth when Ryan points at the tooth he finally got capped thanks to Spencer’s generous dental plan.

“That’s awesome Ry,” Spencer says, and he really seems to mean it.

Ryan doesn’t want to make Spencer worry, but he knows he does. Ryan is what Ginger would kindly refer to as an eccentric but Spencer has always known better. It fills Ryan with a certain kind of warmth to know that for the first time in a long while, Spencer really doesn’t have to worry. Ryan’s okay. Mostly he’s okay because of Spencer, but Spencer’s always liked to look after Ryan and what can Ryan say to that other than it’s nice to be looked after. Because it is.

Afterwards when Spencer goes back on the road, Ryan continues to send him email updates on the state of their kitchen appliances and Spencer calls to check in every now and then and life is good.

“Why did I move out in the first place?” Ryan asks Spencer at one point because he really can’t remember.

“You were in love. I think her name was Angel Marie.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wow, that is a trip. He hadn’t thought of her for years. The last time he’d seen her, she announced she was leaving him to start a vegan co-op in Baltimore with her tattoo artist.

“I wonder what she’s up too.”

Spencer snorts.

Now that Ryan thinks about it, he hasn’t actually thought of anyone in that way for a while now. He still goes out with his friends and he still writes and occasionally he’ll do the odd reading, but he hadn’t really felt the need to do anything more. Strange.

“You have gotten awfully domesticated since moving back in with your feller,” Cassie says when he brings it up. “Look at your socks, they match.”

Ryan looks. Huh. They do. That’s odd.

Cassie grins. “Jon and Tom take turns sorting my socks. Awesome isn’t it?”

And it kind of is.

For the first time in a long while Ryan eats three meals a day and has clean socks that match and he has about 70% mobility back in his hand and it’s all because of Spencer. Cassie nods when he tells her.

“And I’m pretty optimistic the _Atlanta Home Journal_ will publish my latest set of free form anti-beat reactionary poems,” Ryan adds, because he is.

“There you go,” Cassie tells him. “All silver linings and no cloud. Plus you now have an awesome scar.”

Ryan nods. It is a pretty awesome scar.

All in all things are looking up.

He calls Spencer to tell him, but it goes straight to his message bank. Ryan plans to try again after dinner, but then Ginger calls and it’s nice to catch up with her. The week before last they’d coordinated together to send Spencer a care package. (Ryan had included a dog-eared paperback and a packet of French toothpaste that came in the same white and blue metal tube package as it did originally in the 1940s). Apparently it had been a great success all around. As such it’s somewhat unsettling when Spencer brings someone home with him when he gets off tour.

Brendon Urie is tiny, energetic and apparently the next big thing. He and Spencer met on tour. Spencer was drumming for Dallon Weekes’ band/undefined musical project and they were opening for Brendon and apparently now, Brendon wants Spencer to drum for him.

“I thought you were going to join William’s band,” Ryan says, because just last week Bill was talking all about it.

Spencer shakes his head. “They’re breaking up.”

Ryan didn’t know that. But apparently there are a lot of things he didn’t know. One of them is Brendon isn’t just Pete Wentz’s latest find, he’s also Spencer’s boyfriend.

“You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone,” Ryan hisses when Brendon goes to the bathroom.

Spencer gives Ryan a look. “I did. I told you all about him.”

Spencer told Ryan how the headlining act was annoying and lame and watched stupid rom-coms and was somewhat afraid of the girls and boys who picked him up when everyone when out to bars together. He didn’t say anything about dating Brendon or bringing him back to Chicago or how he was apparently going to be staying with them for a while.

“Just until Pete organises the studio,” Brendon explains when he gets back.

Ryan doesn’t really care.

Spencer always had rather suspect taste in the people he dated, but really, Brendon is something else. He is noisy and disruptive and uses all the hot water.

“Like, all of it,” Ryan tells Sean when he goes over to Nick’s place for their bi-weekly beer and guitar hero night. “I had to have a cold shower this morning. I haven’t had one of those since I moved back in.”

“Sounds like Brendon’s a real fox in the hen house,” Sean comments.

Brendon is.

Nick is confused. “I didn’t know you and Spencer were poly.”

Ryan blinks. “We’re not together.”

Now Sean is confused. “But you’re always talking about him.”

Spencer is Spencer. Of course Ryan talks about him. It wouldn’t make sense not to talk about him. So what if he’d maybe just maybe started getting used to the idea of Spencer being around. It couldn’t be helped. Spencer made things easier and better and Ryan can’t be blamed for theoretically placing certain theoretical expectations where they didn’t theoretically belong.

But now Nick and Sean are curious. “So where does Brendon fit in?”

Ryan really doesn’t know. He didn’t even know Brendon was in the picture until he turned up on Spencer’s coattails.

It’s most disconcerting.

 

 

In the following days he is forced to get used to having Brendon’s weird vegetarian food in the fridge, him singing in the shower, and Spencer finding all of he’s antics amusing. Ryan really doesn’t get it. Three months ago, Spencer would have found someone like Brendon insufferable. Now Spencer is tussling his hair and making him coffee and –

“I’ve never meet anyone like him,” Brendon says, pulling Ryan aside on the walk downtown to have drinks with Cassie and everyone.

Ryan’s mind stutters to a halt.

Brendon smiles nervously. “I just – you’re so important to Spencer. I wanted you to know I’m all in. Like, everything in. One thousand and one percent.”

Okay. Okay, Ryan thinks when they reach the bar. Okay.

Cassie takes one look at him and hands him a drink.

“I think Brendon just asked me permission to like, go steady with Spence,” Ryan tells her after empting the glass.

“Isn’t he practically married to you?”

Spencer is married to Ryan. They have the piece of paper to prove it. But – Brendon doesn’t know that. No one knows that apart from like, their insurance provider, the government and Sony.

“What are you going to do?” Cassie asks.

In the past Ryan’s never really needed to do anything. Spencer’s never had anything serious. At least, he’s never had anything serious enough for the person to ask Ryan for his permission for Spencer’s hand or something. Sure Spencer’s had a few on off things, one with Tom that petered out and one with a cool girl named Tennessee, but she moved interstate to go to some post-grad program in Arizona. For the most part all Ryan’s had to do is wait and eventually Spencer’s weekends free up and things go back to normal.

But Brendon doesn’t go anywhere.

When it comes time to record his album, he convinces Pete to book studio time in Chicago and suddenly Brendon’s moved in and Ryan never agreed to that.

“It’s not like you pay rent,” Spencer says when Ryan brings it up.

“Whatever. I live here too. I get a vote.”

Spencer flicks Ryan’s ear and ignores him.

“He’s in love,” Z says when she and her girls stops by on their annual cross country road trip.

And that isn’t right.

“Haven’t you noticed the way Spencer looks at Brendon?”

Ryan has, but it hurts when Z points it out.

Together they go out and Ryan makes her buy him nachos and Mexican beer to make it up to him. Everyone’s there. The entire old crowd and the only thing that is missing is Spencer. Sitting in the middle of the booth, Ryan presses his face against Tennessee’s neck.

“Please take Spencer back,” he whispers, because things were good when she was dating Spencer. Spencer still made Ryan bacon for breakfast when he was seeing her.

“Are you trying to make my girlfriend leave me?” Charlotte asks.

“Yes,” Ryan tells her. “But it’s for the greater good.”

Luckily Z manages to pull him away from Charlotte before she pinches him with her pointy nails.

“Did you ever love me?” he asks her.

Z sighs. “I can’t really remember.”

That isn’t good.

Ryan wants to go home.

 

 

The next morning he’s hung over and Brendon sings most of Journey back catalogue in the shower. It’s awful on so many levels.

 

 

When Ryan finally manages to get up all the hot water is gone, but so is Brendon, so it mostly evens out.

“I think Brendon told me what his intentions were last night,” Ryan tells Spencer over breakfast.

“Intentions in regard to what?” Spencer queries, licking honey off his fingers.

“You.”

“Huh,” Spencer replies.

Ryan feels something inside him tense. “You do remember you’re already spoken for.”

Because Spencer is.

But Spencer only laughs and hands over half his breakfast before Ryan even has the chance to ask for it. “I’ve been spoken for by you for years now. I don’t really think that’s going to change just because Bren decided to have a heart to heart with you.”

“It wasn’t a heart to heart,” Ryan corrects Spencer, ignoring the way his heart changed pace. “Brendon just over shared.”

“Call it whatever you want,” Spencer says agreeably. “I need to get to work.”

 

 

In the mail that day Ryan receives one check worth approximately fifteen dollars in payment for one article in one of Chicago’s free street magazines, a copy of said magazine and three envelopes addressed to Brendon. Spencer can call it whatever he wants. Ryan can call it what it is. Change. As in Brendon’s in it for the long haul and where does Ryan fit into that picture? Does he even fit into that picture?

“Fuck, that’s depressing,” Ryan says aloud.

“What is?” Jon asks but he’s pretty baked by then.

“I think I need to get a divorce from Spence.”

“You think you should, or you think you need to?”

Ryan shrugs.

“Ahh,” Jon says. “Alright then. You think you should but you don’t want to. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to divorce Spencer either. He makes awesome waffles.”

“This is all hypothetical,” Ryan reminds him.

Jon nods. “Completely.”

“Yes,” Ryan nods. “Completely.”

“But hypothetically speaking, why don’t you just, like, not.”

Ryan looks at his hands. He hates trying to talk logic when Jon is high. It always ends badly. Today is no exception as Ryan almost ends up getting a homemade tattoo from Travie when he and William stop by in the afternoon with booze and very bad ideas. It’s only Spencer who stops it from happening when he appears just before Travie finds the right gage needles to use for the outline. Dragging Ryan out, Spencer is completely unamused by Ryan’s antics.

“What did I tell you about making decisions while high?”

“Not to do it?” Ryan guesses, but things are pretty foggy by then so he isn’t completely sure.

When he comes up for air he’s back at home and Brendon is sitting next to him flipping though the cable channels.

“Spencer asked me to keep an eye on you,” he says before Ryan asks.

“Do you do everything Spencer says?”

Brendon grins. “Most things.”

If Ryan had more energy, he’d roll his eyes. Really. As it is he settles back into the couch and tries to focus on the episode of e!news Brendon has switched too.

But Brendon nudges Ryan. “Spencer’s good at making decisions. He stopped me from getting some really stupid tattoos too.”

Ryan’s tattoo wasn’t going to be stupid. Ryan doesn’t get stupid tattoos.

“Like, once in Miami I almost got a sleeve of tropical flowers and fruits.”

Ryan glances at Brendon. “That would have been unfortunate.”

“Totally.”

“Too bad he didn’t stop you getting those lame piano keys,” Ryan adds, before he thinks. (Okay, that’s a lie. But whatever. It’s an ugly tattoo. That shouldn’t be news to Brendon).

Brendon laughs. “I know. If I knew him a year ago I totally would have gotten something classy like a grand piano or some shit like that.”

“He probably would have convinced you to get a drum kit,” Ryan corrects, because Spencer totally would have.

“Yeah, I bet.”

And the thing is, Ryan really hadn’t expected Brendon to be likeable. He’s lame and loud and annoying, but despite it he’s charming and somewhat talented and because of him Spencer has a chance at making a living doing the thing he loves. Indirectly, Brendon is also the reason Ryan is still able to write freehand.

It’s kind of unfair.

When Spencer gets home, Ryan makes himself say it. “I suppose Brendon could be worse.”

Spencer eyes him dubiously. “What bet did you lose?”

“Fuck you, I can totally approve of one of your lovers without it being the result of a bet.”

“This would be a first then,” Spencer replies, cracking open a bottle of water.

Ryan hands him a plate of leftovers. “That’s because you usually date losers.”

“I’m telling Tom you said that.”

Ryan’s pretty sure Tom knows.

“What’s brought on this generosity of spirit?” Spencer queries.

“Shut up. I can say nice things.”

“You usually don’t,” Spencer retorts and he’s more or less right.

But the thing is, normally Spencer’s pretty much the same. Or he is except around Brendon.

Brendon’s good for Spencer. Ryan doesn’t say that though. (Spencer already knows it).

“Hey,” Spencer says. “You okay?”

Ryan is excellent. His husband has fallen head over heels for a mouseketeer. Why wouldn’t he be okay?

The next day he calls Z because he needs to talk to someone and if he can’t talk to Spencer, he’s going to talk to her.

Z isn’t much help. “I didn’t know you did dick?”

Ryan didn’t know either. He isn’t sure what he'd label it/himself. Only, Spencer is Spencer. He’s always been in a category of his own.

“I guess Spencer really is your exception on everything. I mean, remember last fall when you made us all go to see the Backstreet Boys reunion tour on his birthday?”

“It was ironic.”

“It was your idea of an anniversary date.”

“You’re not helping.”

Z laughs. “Did you really think I could? Fuck, I don’t know about this stuff.”

He knows this. They did date for a fortnight and a half.

There is a rustle on the end of the phone line and then Tennessee is on the line. “Z said I should talk to you.”

There are bad ideas and then there are bad ideas. Quizzing Spencer’s ex for advice is something even Ryan knows better than to do.

“I’ve got to go.”

 

 

When he gets off the phone Brendon is in the bathroom on his. Ryan doesn’t know where that habit came from but it’s pretty inconvenient. What if Ryan needed to use the bathroom? What then? Where is the forward planning in that?

Helping himself to some juice, Ryan leans against the counter and checks his facebook feed for any updates. It’s while he’s tracking down what Tara is up too, he hears Brendon’s voice rise.

“I don’t understand?”

And,

“Could you repeat that?”

Ryan dismisses it and returns to flicking though Tara’s photo albums, checking what she’s been doing since high school/cheating on him. Apparently she’s gotten a dog. Ryan want’s to get one too. He’s been thinking about it for a while now. They could probably manage a small one. The apartment isn’t big, but there’s a park with a dog run nearby. Spencer likes dogs too. Ryan is almost certain he can convince Spencer it’s a good idea.

Ryan’s mulling over the idea when Brendon comes into the kitchen.

Pale and somehow off, he stops when he sees Ryan.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryan asks, because Brendon really doesn’t look good.

“Okay?” Brendon echoes.

Ryan puts his glass of orange juice down on the counter. “You don’t look so good, Bren.”

“That’s funny. I don’t feel so good either,” Brendon tells him. “I just got off the phone with my manager. I called to let him know I was thinking about making a statement about Spencer. There’s been some photo’s starting to circulate and I wanted to give the label the heads up.”

Ryan feels his stomach drop.

Brendon doesn’t move. “Do you know what he told me?”

“Bren –”

“They told me Spencer was married. I said that couldn’t be, but they said they had the documents and signatures and apparently he is.”

His voice is hollow and without inflection. Ryan takes a stop towards him.

“I can explain,” Ryan says and he can, he really can, but when he opens his mouth and says, “It’s for the health insurance and tax breaks,” and Brendon laughs.

“This is so fucked up.”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, Bren.”

“I’m not a complete idiot. I mean, sure, it might look that way, but I know how you are with him.”

Now Ryan feels shaken.

Brendon doesn’t stop. “I figured it was just puppy love or bff co-dependant bullshit, but it’s not, is it?”

Ryan tries to disagree, but he can’t because it isn’t.

Brendon rubs his hand over his eyes and Ryan feels his heart break which doesn’t make any sense because this is what he wanted. Brendon’s going to leave and Spencer will go back to cooking meat and sorting their laundry and being rude to people who are annoying and it’s what Ryan wanted. It is. Only, when Brendon tries to leave, Ryan grabs him and refuses to let go.

“No,” he says. “You can’t go.”

And Brendon can’t.

Brendon makes Spencer happy. He can’t go.

“Ryan, fuck, stop it,” Brendon swears, but Ryan is taller and has a good grip and he can’t let go. He refuses to let go.

It is only when Brendon stills, Ryan realises how tightly he’s holding onto him.

“It’s not real,” Brendon says, defeated. “Not like you and Spencer are.”

That isn’t true.

Ryan says that and then repeats himself because Brendon needs to hear it twice.

“You’re so stupid.”

That isn’t true either. Spencer’s never fallen for anyone like he’s fallen for Brendon. He tells Brendon that, all about how Spencer’s never been the way he is around Brendon with anyone else, ever, and how they belong together and how they are good for each other.

When he runs out of words he makes himself let go and watches as Brendon steps away from him and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. His shoulders tremble and Ryan wants things to be fixed. He wants Spencer to be here because Spencer fixes things. He always makes things right. Ryan doesn’t know how to do that. He doesn’t really know how to do anything.

“Don’t,” Brendon says, when Ryan tries to follow him out of their apartment. “Don’t. I need time.”

 

 

But Ryan’s never been good at giving people anything. So he doesn’t listen. He follows Brendon from a distance. There is no skill or stealth to his actions. Brendon knows what Ryan’s doing, knows that he called Spencer to tell him what happened and to tell him get downtown immediately, that it was an emergency. Ryan’s never been good at following anything through to the end, but he knows he will regret it if he lets Brendon disappear into the crowd. Ryan knows it with a certainty that he’s never felt before.

So he trails after Brendon and sticks close and when Brendon allows him to, Ryan draws closer.

“The whole thing is fucked up, you do know that?”

Ryan doesn’t think it’s completely fucked. But then again he’s never been the best judge when it came to things like that.

The truth is, maybe Spencer had talked about Brendon, maybe he’d talked about Brendon a lot. But Ryan’s never been great at hearing what he doesn’t want to hear. His entire literary career is evidence enough of that fact. He tries now thought, he does.

“When I’m around Spencer I feel like I’m the best version of myself,” Brendon says. “Can you say the same?”

Ryan can’t. He can’t lie either.

“I feel like myself,” he tells Brendon, because it’s when Spencer’s not around Ryan feels off beat.

“Are you in love with him?” Brendon asks.

Ryan nods without hesitation.

“There is a different between loving someone and being in love with them,” Brendon corrects, his voice sharp. “I don’t know if you know the difference.”

Ryan’s only really known how to love Spencer.

Of everyone and everything, Ryan has always loved Spencer best. Spencer is the only person who Ryan could disappoint and fail, yet in a respect Ryan doesn’t fully understand, despite those things or perhaps beyond them, he never has. He’s disappointed Spencer but never been a disappointment to Spencer, and failed him in so many ways, but Ryan’s never once felt like a failure in Spencer’s eyes. Brendon might say there is a difference in loving and being in love, but Ryan isn’t sure.

He tries to explain, but somehow that just seems to make things worse.

“How can I compete with that?” Brendon sniffs.

“It’s not about competing,” Ryan says, because he doesn’t think it is. “I just want Spencer to be happy.”

 

 

Spencer finds them like that shortly afterwards.

The three of them must make such a sight. Ryan feels shaky, Spencer is out of breath by the time he reaches them and Brendon sniffs as Spencer opens his mouth.

“I should have told you,” Spencer says because he’s always been good at saying what needs to be said without messing around with small talk. “It was shitty of me not too.”

“It was,” Brendon says.

Ryan sees his cue, but when he moves to disappear, Brendon grabs his hand.

“Bren,” Ryan tries.

“No,” Brendon says. “You’re involved in this. You’re Spencer’s husband for fucksake.”

“And you’re his boyfriend,” Ryan says, because that part is just as true.

It’s the three of them. Maybe Ryan didn’t want that in the beginning, but he’s always been selfish with Spencer. That’s probably why Tom drifted to Jon and Cassie, and how Tennessee ended up with her best friend instead of Ryan’s. Brendon doesn’t deserve that. Maybe Ryan doesn’t know what he wants with Spencer, but he knows he wants Spencer to be happy and Brendon does make him happy.

So when Spencer takes Brendon home, Ryan helps. He squeezes Brendon’s hand and when they get back to their apartment, kisses the back of it before he lets go.

“You’re such a fuck up, Ross,” Brendon whispers.

“But you put up with me,” Ryan says, hopes.

Brendon laughs shakily. “Yeah. I do. I put up with both of you.”

Spencer bites his lip.

He almost lost Brendon – Ryan can see the knowledge in Spencer’s eyes. It feels right when Spencer closes his bedroom door to talk to Brendon privately. Ryan might not know what’s going on, but he knows Spencer. Spencer’s not going anywhere on Ryan. Ryan knows that. Heading into the kitchen, he finds his iPhone just where he left it. Apparently Tara uploaded a new profile picture since he last was on. It’s of her standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. He’s still looking at her tanned face and bright hazel eyes when Spencer remerges. The kitchen is dark though. Ryan can’t remember that happening.

He blinks when Spencer switches on the light.

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters.

Ryan can’t help but laugh. “I think that’s my line.”

“It’s really not.”

Ryan isn’t sure about that. But Spencer’s voice sounds certain.

“Brendon told me about what you said.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So, ditto.”

Ryan eyes him, refusing to allow his heart to do the stupid things it wants to do. “Ditto? That’s what you’re going with.”

Spencer smiles a little. “You’ve always been better when it comes to words.”

“ _The New Yorker_ doesn’t think so.”

“They’re stupid.”

Ryan feels fragile, but it’s Spencer and if there is anyone he can trust, it’s Spencer. “Brendon said that about me.”

“He can be pretty smart.”

“Yeah.”

“He makes us look like idiots in comparison.”

“He does,” Ryan agrees and when Spencer offers his hand, Ryan takes it because he’s never not.

It isn’t late, but when Ryan lies down beside Spencer and Brendon, he feels exhausted.

Suddenly fragile, he feels Spencer’s arm slip around his waist and Brendon’s breathe against his neck. Ryan isn’t sure what he wants, but he thinks they can work it out together. Brendon’s pretty smart and Spencer’s never once given up on Ryan. They’ll all be alright in time.

 

 


End file.
